


Vicious(?) Predator

by SlimeAndSnails



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: (actually there's no pronouns used for mc but i figured i'd slap the first tag in there), Animal Traits, F/F, F/M, Gender-Neutral Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Gender-neutral Reader, Lots of petting, M/M, Other, Paws and Claws Event, Self-Indulgent, Short & Sweet, beel almost eats something inedible. because of course he does, reader is mc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:53:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24302449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlimeAndSnails/pseuds/SlimeAndSnails
Summary: Satan and Mammon got scenes where they played with a ball. Why not our other big kitty, Beel? So I wrote that. You're welcome.
Relationships: Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 321





	Vicious(?) Predator

**Author's Note:**

> I have had a very very rough day so I wrote some cute ass shit as pure self-indulgence. I might do some more with the paws and claws brothers, not gonna lie. They’re just so cute.

A week. A whole week until the antidote is ready, thanks to Satan and Mammon busting the original. A week of the powerful demon lords you live with having cute animal ears and tails and purring and trying not to eat you.

You are, of course, ecstatic. Sure, they’re voracious predators, but you just can’t help but coo at the fluffy appendages your boys have suddenly sprouted. They’re just so damned cute! Your eyes follow the exquisitely furry lion ears in front of you as they swivel around at any tiny noise, the tufted lion tail that sways behind Beel almost frantically.

A wide Cheshire grin is spread across your face.

“You want it?”

He paws at your shirt and makes a tiny chirruping sound. You can actually see his eyes dilate at this distance, the brilliant purple nearly overtaken by black like in a terrible romance novel.

“Come on. Use your words. Do. You. Want. The. Ball?” You wave it in front of his face, yanking it away when he goes to swat at it. “Nuh-uh. That’s cheating.”

Beel whimpers. Honest to God whimpers. It’s almost inhuman, edged with a feline tone.

You grin even wider. “Then go get it!” You chuck the bright blue ball of yarn (that you definitely did not go to a craft store to find after having found out that some of your friends have a newfound fascination with moving objects, definitely not) over his head and across the parlor, stifling the urge to laugh as Beel pushes himself up off your knees (ouch, his claws are really fucking sharp) and then tears off after it.

It rolls to a stop under a chair and he practically bowls over the thing before dropping to the floor and digging his arm under it. He sticks his tongue out as he fishes for the yarn, making a happy noise as he manages to grab it and drag it out where he can get to it properly.

And all at once, the spell is broken. Beel closes his eyes, shakes his head, scowls, looks up at you. Then at the ball. He sighs, picks it up, and walks back over to where you’re sitting on the couch.

“It’s not funny,” he sniffs, plopping back down at your knees and laying his (fuzzier than usual) head on your lap. You get to work petting his hair, combing it back into place from where it got mussed up against the chair.

“Come on. It’s a little bit funny.” You scritch behind his new fluffy ears and he purrs, a soft rumble from deep in his chest. “Besides, Satan and Mammon were doing it earlier. You can’t tell me  _ that _ wasn’t funny.”

He presses a smile into the side of your leg, growling purr breaking into a soft laugh. “Yeah. That was funny.” Beel fiddles with the dangling end of the yarn, looking up at you. “I wonder why I didn’t feel like joining in then…?”

You shrug. He’s got that tiny frown that indicates he’s thinking about something, so you stay quiet and start running your fingers through the mane-like ruff on his new conjured clothing. Magic is so fucking weird. The ruff is very soft though, so you just keep petting, one hand rubbing circles behind a soft lion ear and the other smoothing down the mane. Damn him for being so snuggly. It’s utterly unfair.

There’s a moment of near silence, the soft rustle of your fingers dragging gently through his fur (real and artificial), and the baritone rumble from Beel’s throat the only sounds in the air. And then it’s abruptly broken by the yarn slipping away from his hand and falling to the floor, rolling away slowly.

Beelzebub, the 6th Ruler of Hell and Lord of the Flies, freezes. His new tail quivers, his eyes go wide as he watches it roll, his ears twitch violently and prick up when the ball knocks into a rug and changes direction. A vicious growl rips through the air and like that, Beel is off once again, smacking the ball around on the floor with his tail waving joyfully. You can’t help but laugh as you watch him, but he ignores you completely.

This goes on for some time, and you enjoy every moment of it. He snatches up the ball, holding it close to his chest and clawing at it with his fingers. And then chews on it, which is a little distressing when you realize that-

Shit, he might actually eat it.

“Beel.”

He blinks, now gnawing on the ball with way more ferocity than you’re comfortable with, and looks at you quizzically.

“That’s not food.”

This seems to snap him out of his instinct-driven state and he spits out the ball, grimacing. Once again getting up (and brushing the floor dust off of his fluffy jacket mane), he huffs and sits back down. This time next to you, instead of draping himself over your lap.

“Ew,” he sneers, picking at his mouth. “Now I have little hairs in my teeth.”

You laugh, reaching over and petting through the tuft on the end of his swishing tail. “Poor baby. The yarn fights back.”

He curls his tail around you and sets it on your lap for better access, leaning against you affectionately. “It’s vicious yarn. My mortal enemy.”

“Uh-huh. The mortal enemy that you chase around the room and then bring back to me like you’re playing fetch. You sure you didn’t get some dog genes in there too?” He looks unimpressed, scooting down the couch so he can lean his head on your shoulder, the freakishly tall bastard. “I think I like this animal potion. We gotta get more. What do you think?”

Beel chuckles quietly, snuggling into your neck. “I think a week is long enough,” he says, taking your hand and setting it on his head in a silent plea for more petting. “But it  _ is _ pretty nice.”


End file.
